


Painful Truths

by KingslayersWhore



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Beautiful Golden Fools, Brother/Sister Incest, But it’s PURELY a platonic friendship between her and Jaime, Canon Compliant, Eitherway JC is the only ship to be found, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, If you can even call it a friendship, It’s whatever the hell you would call their ‘relationship’ when they reach Kingslanding, Mentions of Brienne, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Porn with Feelings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23591512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingslayersWhore/pseuds/KingslayersWhore
Summary: Jaime finally understands why Cersei has been so distant and angry since he got back to Kingslanding, and it has nothing to do with him ‘taking too long’.—-“You saved her instead of me!” Cersei finally shouted. Tears filled her emerald eyes and Jaime watched with shock as they made their way down her pale porcelain cheek. “You saved her from the same thing Robert put me through. You saved that big ugly cow from something you NEVER protected me from. You saved your captor... and not the woman you love.”
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister
Comments: 15
Kudos: 52





	Painful Truths

**Author's Note:**

> So this was inspired by a reddit post I saw where someone made the, sadly, accurate point that Jaime always managed to save Brienne and never Cersei. He saved from Brienne twice from rape but he never tried to save Cersei from Roberts rapes. He came back and saved Brienne from the bear pit but he wouldn’t go back and save Cersei from the Walk of Shame. Even in the show he saved Brienne during the Long Night but couldn’t save Cersei during the burning of Kingslanding.  
> Anyway- that just gave me a plot bunny and that plot bunny turned into, well, what real bunnies often like to do. So I hope you enjoy.

The big stupid wench was going to get herself good and killed and it was up to Jaime to save her  _ again. _

To be fair the tall blonde saved him when someone found out their identity (he would have been lying if he said the swordsmanship didn't impress him), then he saved her from the rapes, then it was her turn to save him when he just wanted to curl up in a ball and die. She reminded him he had to live not just for revenge but for Cersei. To be back in her arms, to hear her voice, to feel her warm cunt around him. Then he rescued her from the bear pit so really it was Brienne's turn to save him but instead he found himself having to play the knight in shining armor she was determined to see him as ever since he told her what really happened with Aerys.

Why he told her, he still didn’t know. Maybe it was just the fact he was tired of holding onto that secret, maybe it was because he was sick of someone he recognized as his young naive self judging him, maybe he was just disoriented with fever and he couldn’t help himself but either way- after that she looked at him like some pagan of knightly virtue and that just wasn’t who Jaime was. He pushed a boy out a window for Cersei, he killed his own cousin for Cersei, he had been THIS close to killing the wench on that bridge for Cersei. 

He could hardly blame the girl, she was young and naive; a hopeless romantic who believed in all the songs and stories. He had been the same way once, until experience taught him otherwise, the same way it would unfortunately teach her. 

Cersei understood the way things were supposed to be. She understood the way life worked. She was old enough to comprehend the fact that the world wasn’t black and white but understood people had shades of grey (some darker or lighter than others). He only hoped Brienne realized it too before it was too late, yet here he was; sending the Maid of Tarth on a quest to rescue a fair maiden with a new set of armor and a priceless magical sword, sending her on an adventure that was sure to fail. It was the most traditional knightley thing you could do and he was doing it not only to save Sansa and keep his promise to Catelyn Stark but he wanted to save the tall woman as well.

Jaime saw the way Cersei looked at her. It was different the way she glared at any woman who batted their eyelashes at him, there was something deeper there. She wasn’t just jealous of Brienne (why anyone would be jealous of the sow in silk he wasn’t sure but then again his sister had always been a complicated woman) there was something else happening, there was a reason why the very fires of all seven hells lit up her eyes whenever Cersei caught the two of them even so much as passing each other in the corridor.

Which was why Jaime had to play the role of rescuer and get her out of Kingslanding as soon as possible. Whatever offense Brienne committed in the eyes of the queen, he was sure the punishment wouldn’t fit the crime.

After Brienne finally left, promising to find Sansa for Lady Catelyn (‘and for him’, she added with downcast eyes and an ugly blush. Gods how could someone so naive still be a maid? Cersei had never been so guileless and he prayed his daughter would be a bit more worldly when she reached the wench’s age), he made his way to Cersei’s chambers. She was staring out her window and didn’t so much as even flinch when he shut the door behind him.

His sister had a glass of wine in hand, as usual, and was sipping it slow but her grip around the stem was so tight her knuckles were a snowy white. The windows were open partly and a light breeze was fluttering through her long blonde hair and the dress she wore moved as if it were made of water rather than silk and the way the afternoon sun caught the various shades of red in the gown made it appear as if she were a bundle of flames. 

She was an absolute vision. Elegant, graceful, stunning, astonishing, a beauty that not even the more remarkable poet could describe her as. He felt a stirring in his cock as he looked at the woman who owned his heart and soul and every part of him. Jaime made his way over to her and slid his flesh hand around her waist and nuzzled against her neck, inhaling her subtle perfume, a queer exotic fruit he couldn’t name but either way it made his cock jump to attention. 

Jaime knew she could feel it. He was wearing loose fitting trousers and her only three thin gown but she made no movement, and gave no indication he was even there.

Until she uttered three simple words.

“Where’s the sword?”

Jaime stilled, only for a moment, before he pressed his lips against the smooth curve of her neck. “What sword?” He muttered the words against her soft flawless flesh, hoping to draw her attention away from the question he was pretty sure she already knew the answer too.

“The priceless valyrian steel sword that Father had made. The one that was supposed to go to our children and theirs after them.” She took another sip of wine and nodded out the window. “The sword you gave that great cow.”

Jaime finally looked out the window and there, easily recognizable even at a distance, he saw Brienne ride her pretty white mare out the northern gate, blue armor shining in the sun and Oathkeeper strapped to her waist, white blonde hair slicked back.

From this angle, she could almost be a beauty. From this angle, she could almost be a knight.

“I could send the mountain after her,” Cersei mused, drawing him out of his thoughts. “He’ll put an end to that ugly little friend of yours.” A cruel smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes formed on her painted lips. “He’ll even be so kind as to make sure she doesn’t die a maid and who knows? A man that freakishly large, perhaps he likes freakishly large women and would keep her alive so he could take her for a wife.”

“She isn’t my friend,” he protested, choosing to ignore what he knew were empty threats. “She’s my... I don’t know,” Jaime answered honestly. “But whatever she is to me, whatever she’s done can’t possibly be enough to bring forth this level of ire in you.”

“What? Does the thought of your great  _ protector _ having to go through that disturb you?” She swallowed the rest of her wine and turned away from the window. “Does the thought of her meager teats being mauled and her pale thighs painted red with blood disgust the great lion of Lannister?”

“Cersei, stop it,” he ordered sharply but she ignored his warning and poured herself another glass of wine.

She scoffed as she took a slow sip of wine. “It certainly didn’t disgust you when it was me going through that.” 

“What the hells are you talking about?”

His sweet sister glared at him as if he was playing at some jest. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I truly don’t.” He reached for her hand and she yanked it away as if he were a snake. Not to be deterred he ignored her protests and grabbed her hand again, pulling her towards him.

“Let go of me,” the lioness growled, sending a wave of fire burning in his belly.

“No.”

She slapped him. The fire grew hotter.

“You know EXACTLY what the problem is,” Cersei hissed as she wrenched out of his grasp. “You know why I’m upset!”

“I don’t!” he yelled at her. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He thought things were working out, finally. He managed to keep his oath, he got Brienne out of Kingslanding safe and sound and now he was supposed to be with Cersei. Why was she ruining this? “Cersei, will you just talk to me?” His words fell on deaf ears. “Cersei? Cersei!”

“You saved her instead of me!” Cersei finally shouted. Tears filled her emerald eyes and Jaime watched with shock as they made their way down her pale porcelain cheek. “You saved her from the same thing Robert put me through. You saved that big ugly cow from something you NEVER protected me from. You saved your captor, and not the woman you love.”

His face fell as she covered her cries with her hand, soft and smooth and uncalloused, perfectly molded to fit in his. 

“Where did you hear that?”

“Bolton’s men talk,” she told him. “You lied and told them Tarth was full of sapphires but they would only get the reward if she remained a maid.” He took a step closer to her and she took a step away from him, twisting away from him. “Leave me,” she ordered, her voice a shaking tremble.

“No,” he told her, defiantly, without argument. “You want me to apologize for saving a woman, a young Highborn maiden from rape? I won’t.”

“I don’t want you to apologize for that, you great golden fool!” she shouted rounding on him. “She could have used a few harsh life lessons but no, I don’t want you to apologize for that, I want you to apologize for never lying about sapphires for  **_me_ ** ! I want you to apologize for never losing a fingernail fighting for  **_my_ ** honor but instead losing your sword hand just to save the maidenhood of someone who's barely a woman!”

Jaime swallowed hard. Guilt and shame washed over him in a sickening crash. “The-... the king, he-... I couldn’t-,” he started to stammer out but a sharp slap across his face cut off any words. Cersei stood toe to toe with him, emeralds looking up at emeralds, a mirror of one another.

“You never protected me,” she snarled at him. Her voice was half a growl and half a purr and it stirred something dangerous inside of Jaime. “I used to pray you would kick down the door, drive your sword through Roberts back and take me away with you but you never came. You just stood outside the door and let it happen like the good little dog you are.”

“I wanted to save you,” he argued. A weak response to be sure but a true one in any case. “Every night I wanted to come to you.”

“You lie,” she spat. Cersei raised her hand but this time he caught her by the wrist and yanked her up against him, wrapping his maimed arm around her waist so she couldn’t escape. She fought against him but even with one hand he was still stronger than she was. “Let me go! Jaime, let me go!”

“No,” he growled low in her ear. He saw her swallow hard, saw her eyes darken with fear and desire. Her perfectly formed breasts heaved against him. “Every night I dreamt of killing him. Of slitting his throat and fucking you beside the king as he bled out, of sticking my sword in his fat gut and watching as the steam and blood leaked like a sieve.” The whimper she made was music to his ears. His lips found her ear, kissing and biting the way he knew she liked. “I would have killed him a thousand times over if I could, I’d chop off his hands, his head, his short stubby cock, is cut off every single piece until nothing but a red stain on my sword was left of him.” 

He tore at the dress, ignoring her half-hearted protests. The fabric ripped easily, the silk parting like ribbons in his hand. He groped at her breast, his favorite part of her, pinching at her large nipple that was already straining against his fingertips. 

“You didn’t though,” she gasped as his lips brushed against her pale neck, her collar bone, lower and lower before he was suckling at her breast like a babe. His teeth scraped against her, he hit her and soothed the wonderful ache with a swirl of his warm tongue. “You- you let it happen.” She buried her hands in his hair and tugged hard but he didn’t relent. “You saved the cow though, you saved-.”

She whelped. Not cried, not gasped, not moamed, she  _ whelped _ like a whipped dog as he slapped her ass hard, soothing away the red mark as soon as he did it. She punished him with yanking his short golden locks back, back back until he was looking up at her.

“I don’t want to talk about what I did or didn’t do for  _ Brienne of Tarth _ anymore,” he growled low in his throat as he got to his knees. “Fuck her, fuck Robert, fuck anyone who isn’t us.”

Jaime ripped away the last of her silken skirts and it fell to the floor beneath them. A patch of golden curls covered his treasure and as he looked up at her, he saw all her perfections, all the white marks earned from carrying her cubs, his children, all her soft fleshy curves that would have made the Maiden Herself sick with want and jealousy. A low growl tumbled in his throat as the lion looked up at his prize before he leaned forward, inhaling her want for him and only him deeply. Strong and slightly sour and all his. Cersei let out a strangled gasp as he threw her leg over his shoulder and buried his face between her legs. Her soft long fingers tugged at his hair as he allowed her to simply ride his face for a moment, letting the sharp scruff of his beard do what she needed it to do.

He parted her lower lips as her upper cried out his name, cried for relief, cried for her brother, cried for her lover. His tongue reached out and licked at that glorious pink slit soaked with the desire only he could bring and licked, in wide flat caresses at first then hurried frenzy stripes with the tip of his tongue the way she liked. 

The body bared before him he knew as well as his own. He knew every scar, every dip, every curve just as she had mapped out his own body. He knew she loved his teeth on her breasts and nippes and and her ear but nothing lower than that except for one particular spot on her hip, he knew his fingers were to stay firmly away from the hole between her firm cheeks but his tongue was always welcomed to worship it, he knew she liked to pull and yank at his hair but he was never allowed to touch her long locks or else he would be rewarded with a sharp slap across the face.

He couldn’t remember when he knew exactly how to please her, he couldn’t remember when he realized she liked it when he purred against her clit which he was doing just now, it just  _ was. _

That’s the way they always were, the two of them. There was no ending to Cersei, no beginning to Jaime, they just  _ were _ and  _ was _ since the beginning and would be until the end.

Jaime feasted on her glorious wetness, suckling at the clit and rubbing his tongue against the overexcited bundle of nerves. She writhed and rode against his face claiming him for her own until her sweet creaminess flooded his mouth with a loud gasping cry that they must have heard all the way at the wall but neither of them had it in them to care. If someone walked in, let them see. If someone heard, let them hear. Their son was gone, he was missing a sword hand and Cersei and her glorious cunt was the only thing that felt  _ right, _ that felt  _ real.  _

He made her angry. His heroics for one and inaction for another upset her, and now he was going to make it up to her.

Before her sweetness had ceased falling Cersei yanked Jaime to his feet by his golden hair and kissed him, tasting herself on her brother's lips. He was hard and aching, already dripping precum. The three hands worked at unlacing his trousers, pushing them down around his ankles. Jaime stumbled as he stepped out of them while Cersei ripped off his shirt and then his arms were around her, the two of them pressing up against one another. He could feel her heat and he knew she could feel the length of him pressing against her wine and honey soaked cunt. Slamming her against the wall, Jaime grabbed hold of one of her pale succulent thighs and hooked it around his hip, hesitating with his other hand, the golden one she had made for him, until she grabbed hold of his wrist and put it on her other thigh, giving him the sign of acceptance, or as much acceptance as she could have at the maiming.

He hoisted her up and pressed her against the wall and without so much as a moment wasted he buried himself inside her, gasping as her warmth tightened around him. Her nails dug into his shoulders and she bit his shoulder to muffle her screams and then she moved to his neck, his jaw, behind his ear, her sharp teeth marking him as her own. 

Jaime claimed her maidenhood, and everytime since she claimed him in return.

“You’re mine,” he growled against the hollow of her throat as he thrust inside her, pushing in and out using the wall as leverage. “Only mine.... Say it…  _ Say it! _ ”’

“I’m yours!” Cersei gasped, tightening her thighs around his waist. “I’m yours, sweet brother, I’m yours! Only yours!”

“You’re mine. You’re mine to love,” Jaime grunted. “You’re mine to protect, you’re mine to fuck, just as I’m yours. No one else’s. Only we matter, me and you, no one else.”

“No one! No one, Jaime, no one, no one!”

It didn’t take long for her to explode around him again and moments afterwards he filled her with his seed. Cersei was trembling as she buried her head in the crock of his shoulder, gasping for breath that was reluctant to come as Jaime softened inside her. His useless wrist was aching and far sooner than he would have liked he lowered her to the ground but he would not let her go. Not yet, not now, not until forever had passed by.

“I’m sorry,” the knight whispered to his queen, stroking her sweat soaked hair. She gazed up at him with heavy lidded eyes. “I should have protected you.”

Cersei put her hands on his face, gently stroking his rough skin. His flesh hand came up and settled over top of hers, wanting to feel her touch deeper, the way she wanted him closer to her. 

“I know,” she whispered before she pressed her soft lips to his, an acceptance of his apology not for doing the right thing, for once, but for his inactions all the other times even if she could not say the words.

But Jaime knew what her kiss meant. He knew what the first frightened fumbled kiss meant when he was a mere child and he knew what it meant now. Because Jaime knew Cersei; inside and out, body and soul.

From their first days, until their lasts.W


End file.
